Spectrocide
by SpiffyIsAsSpiffyDoes
Summary: A man holds a grudge against all Ghost-types, so he starts an organization to wipe them out. His best friend's nephew could be their greatest boon or worst enemy, thanks to some modifications to his mind.
1. Prologue

Spectrocide

By SpiffyBalak

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon, if I did, there would be an MMORPG of it by now.

Prologue

He certainly had the right to hate them.

Which one caused more pain - consistently getting swindled by fate, or tasting happiness, then having it ripped away from him? He'd take the former.

He treated his Pokemon with kindness, instructing them without barking orders, trained them to hone their strengths and make up for their weaknesses. In return, his Pokemon admired and respected him. This translated to immense power on the battlefield, letting him burn through gyms like a dog chasing cars, except that he succeeded at his endeavor - several times, in fact. He became notorious for rehabilitating the Pokemon of his friends, fitting them with perfect moves, stats, and most importantly, behavior.

So why did his teddy bear of a Gengar do something like that? His first Pokemon, no less!

He winced and made a fist.

His mom and dad announced that they'd like to open a Pokemon daycare center. The poor economy left them with a half-hatched nest egg, and they figured that looking after Pokemon would be an easy source of supplemental income. After all, they become tamer the longer they stay in one place. So he told his parents that they should get some practice first.

"Spiky's tame. You can learn the ropes with him. I'll drop him off, and you can start looking after him tomorrow."

The next day, he called to check on them.

"Hello. Who is this?" A bright voice answered. Not his mom's voice.

"It's Guy Beatty. Is my mom or dad there?"

"Ah, their son. I'm sorry to inform you that your parents are dead-"

"WHAT!? Do you know what killed them!?"

"Please calm down Mr. Beatty. When the temperatures of your parents were taken, they were extremely low. A Gengar was found in their room, and as you know, they absorb heat from other beings. It was released back into the wild to avoid-"

Guy pressed the button on his PokeGear to end the call. He held it down, hoping to end the call for good. Bastard policewoman, declaring Spiky guilty without so much as an autopsy. There was no evidence, only Spiky being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Why didn't Spiky come back to him if he heard the roar of the police motorcycles?

Hell, why did Spiky have to suck the life from his parents? Why was it friend versus family? Were ghost Pokemon inherently devious bastards, waiting until you trusted them enough, then finding the nearest warm body and absorbing the drug-like warmth?

Bastard ghost Pokemon.

--

The next few months went by in a blur.

--

"Jason, man, I swear, the world will be better off without ghost Pokemon! Even battling, for you, would be easier, 'cause Psychics are weak to Ghost!"

"I'm on board, Guy. But if the Feds caught us killing ghosts, which we don't even know how to do yet, they'd throw our asses in jail before we could say 'whoops'. We should try to gain influence first by enlightening the public to our cause."

--

They started an organization. Started by speaking at various locations, handing out pamphlets, stuff like that. Guy's fame brought most of the people in at first, then something else brought them in. The two young men confirmed their fear and distrust of Ghost Pokemon, telling them that it was not only normal, but morally right. Ghost Pokemon survived by siphoning energy from human and Pokemon alike. The structure of a ghost was inherently bad for the earth, because they came from a different dimension, the negative world, and negative energy was destructive no matter what it did. Lavender Town had the lowest number of tourists in Kanto for a reason.

And this trainer, who actually started with a Gastly, raised him from low levels to level 100...how did he repay his master?

--

"The only correct course of action," Guy spoke into dozens of microphones, "is to eliminate Ghost Pokemon from the face of the earth. We may not know how yet, but if we learn how, Spectrocide will give us - and our children one less thing to fear in the night."

With each round of applause, the pain dulled a little.

--

Soon, Spectrocide amassed lots of money. This helped Guy, who needed all the money he could get for advertising, research, and the ocassional bribe. This also helped Jason, who needed all the money he could get for food, clothes, toys, and diapers.

When Jack and Sally Tennod died, they left their infant son Pete behind. Jason decided adopting Pete would keep the kid's life as similar as it would be if his parents didn't get in that car accident. Same grandparents, same last name, just different home environment.

Guy bonded with little Pete too, because he would share the grief of lacking a mom and dad before long. However, he thought as he dialed the number of his colleague Gonzap, perhaps he didn't have to feel that pain.

A few minutes later, a small version of the device used to make Shadow Pokemon was set to deliver from Pyrite Town, Orre to Saffron City, Kanto via the Ninjask Multiregional Postal Service.

--

"All their vitals are in order. Now's as good as any time to start the procedure."

Guy handed Jason the nightmarish black mask that resembled the head of a Darkrai.

"No need for him to hurt. No need for him to feel loss. No need for him to cry." Jason whispered, half to himself and half to Guy.

"When he's grown, he can join the cause," Guy smiled at his friend as he lowered the helmet to the wiggling infant's head.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Pete Tennod was proud of himself.

"Light travels faster than sound. The first thing one notices is how you look."

First off, Pete was proud of his appearance. Every morning, he slicked back his dark hair with mousse, scrubbed and shaved his his face, selected a crisp starched shirt, a pressed tie, a pair of trousers, and finished it off with a blazer, making sure that it and the trousers matched. He had sets in blue, red, gold, silver, and for Spectrocide meetings, black with violet trim.

"It's not enough to be heard. You have to be acknowledged."

Pete was proud of his conversational skills. He had a low, commanding baritone that could rumble eardrums if he wanted. Stand out from the crowd. Start with a minor, plausible compliment or quip about a shared experience. Listen to them, then make relevent comments. Maybe teach them a thing or two. Hang lampshades over your own faults (he didn't like this part at all). Use Miller's Law to meet them in their own reality. Then they listen to you, agree with you, and assist you.

"The smoothest talker in the world will go nowhere if he's hiding skeletons in his closet."

Pete was proud of his reputation. His uncle regarded him as a golden boy for good reasons. He had high marks in school, didn't trouble himself with other teenagers, and didn't date ("I'll save adult matters for when the others can act like adults"). He excelled at training his Mewtwo, developed for him as his fifth birthday present.

--

All these good qualities made his problems even worse in his eyes.

Pete had a problem with long nights that he couldn't sleep through. He'd ponder what happened throughout the day, and from time to time, some part of his brain would drag him back in time, replaying the mental mp3s.

--

"Uncle, all the other children talk about moms and dads. What are those?"

"Pete, those are one's parents, the people who made them."

"Like how you made Saiko?"

"Somewhat. Do you remember Mr. Beatty talking about Pokemon breeding? That is what humans do to make new humans."

"Ew...but where are my mom and dad?"

"...They were in a car accident, and died from the injuries. That's why I raise you."

"Oh."

--

He knew he had a happy life with his uncle. He wouldn't trade in this life for anyone else's, considering that the butterfly effect would result in him losing everything his seemingly supreme state had given him.

But at that moment, why did his thrill from witnessing Saiko burn an entire tree with pyrokinesis dull, and at the same time, feel... the slightest urge to crawl back into bed? At 9 AM, the last thing one should do is hit the snooze bar.

He tried to shrug it off. But why did he remember it after 8 years?

Pete had a problem with his peers. They engaged in such bizarre rituals that it left him in a state of constant confusion to put up with them.

One time, for instance, he held a Spectrocide Jr. meeting during lunch. Afterwards, someone had followed him out of the cafeteria, telling him how he was smart and cool person, and because Pete had finished all of his homework, would Pete like to hang out after school to help him with his? Pete just explained that he had some work to do for Spectrocide proper (his uncle was second in command, after all), and that seemed to work.

When this one time repeated itself, albeit with a different pursuer each time, he announced to everyone that he didn't have time for his schoolmates outside of the classroom.

That caused a few of the supposed fans to engage in a ritual where they said bad things about him, and called him names, which his uncle revealed as "teasing" (the ones in his writing class, for some unknown reason, called him "Marty Stu"). Pete didn't mind this, because they didn't beg for his attention like they used to when asking him to "hang out". But what did they achieve from that meaningless exercise?

Whatever the case, Saiko made sure that until they stopped that meaningless exercise, they lost participation points in physical education, because telekinesis-induced paralysis didn't let them perform the exercises needed to pass 9th grade.

Finally, his Mewtwo, despite being his closest companion thanks to their telepathic connection, made him even more troubled.

When Pete turned five years old, his uncle asked him what he wanted. He requested the strongest Pokemon in the world. Ever since scientists learned how to synthesize DNA, Mewtwos could be custom-ordered, even if they did cost as much as a top-of-the-line Alienware computer.

So Jason brought Pete to Spectrocide's lab, and worked for 4 straight nights. Pete watched the computerized visualizations of the spliced artifical Mew and Arceus-knows-what-else DNA, the dividing cells that reminded him of ballroom dancers, and the implantation of the zygote that would become Saiko in the giant tube filled with peach-colored fluid.

When Jason declared the Mewtwo viable and opened the tube, Pete extended a hand to the psychic cat, but only shook air.

"What do you think of me?"

"I imprinted on you. For all intents and purposes, we are trusted companions."

"Impressive."

From that day on, he spent more time with Saiko than with his uncle, exploring the woods behind Pete's house, where he sharpened his physical skills while his Mewtwo honed (and sometimes showed off) her telekinesis. They could train at the same time - Saiko liked jerk around a log bridge that Pete would try to cross (and if the he fell, she'd levitate him back up), or Pete would climb a tree while Saiko would break off branches, or they could hit a beehive, and run away together (they never planned things like that, obviously).

Perhaps because of those activities, Pete felt something unusual when around Saiko - it was like physical warmth on a mental scale, mixed with a million tiny static shocks all over his body. This felt pleasant, but something told him this feeling - respect mixed with some harmful agents - would lead him to destruction. At first, he completely ignored it, musing that Saiko broke his falls whenever they played outside.

But the feeling persisted, without even giving a reason. No evidence, no logic, just pure anxiety.

Pete Tennod was ashamed of himself.


End file.
